


Head Over Feet

by Moreid



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Geralt sings to Jaskier, Geralt writes a song for Jaskier, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, but not that much angst etc so no worries, mention of nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26408971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moreid/pseuds/Moreid
Summary: “Just keep your eyes open, please,”the Witcher had almost begged as he tore a strip from his already ripped doublet and tied it cautiously around Jaskier’s wound to stop the bleeding.“You need to keep your beautiful eyes open, understood? Jaskier? Do you understand?”He wasn’t supposed to sleep. He shouldn’t. Because the thing with Sleazaeraks was, getting bitten by one meant there was no waking up ever again if you fell asleep.Too bad the poison they had in them was enough to put a whale to sleep.“And w-what’s in it for me?”was Jaskier's answer, eyes already heavy with sleep. The antidote  the Witcher made him drink wasn’t near enough to what he needed, yet he still hoped that it would be enough to keep Jaskier awake for a while.“Keep your damn eyes open,”Geralt wanted to say.And maybe the old Geralt, who rarely expressed his feelings to anyone unless those feelings had gotten something to do with anger, would say that.But what left his mouth instead was:“I’ll sing a song for you if you hang on, if you don’t fall asleep. Just hang on till I get you to a healer.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 155





	Head Over Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks @kjts101 for checking my errors. You are the best, sweetheart!
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this, my dear Witchlings! 💛
> 
> (P.S: I highly recommend listening to Jonah Platt's _"Head Over Feet"_ cover since I was inspired by it, but shhh, we're gonna pretend that Geralt wrote that song.)

“No, Jaskier. I won’t fucking sing. You better stop waiting for it.”

“But Geralt!” Jaskier whined, “You promised me!”

Yeah, right. The promise Jaskier wasn’t supposed to hear in the first place.

The promise Geralt was more than glad he had heard nevertheless.

“And now I’m saying that won’t happen.”

About two weeks ago, being the foolish, brave bard he was, Jaskier had tried to distract a Slezaerek so Geralt could kill it effortlessly. It had worked, but not without a cost, sadly.

Jaskier was hurt in the progress of doing that, and “ _Witchers don’t have feelings”_ his ass, Geralt was more than terrified that he was going to lose his little hummingbird for good this time.

 _“Just keep your eyes open, please,”_ the Witcher had almost begged as he tore a strip from his already ripped doublet and tied it cautiously around Jaskier’s wound to stop the bleeding.

_“You need to keep your beautiful eyes open, understood? Jaskier? Do you understand?”_

He wasn’t supposed to sleep. He shouldn’t. Because the thing with Sleazaeraks was, getting bitten by one meant there was no waking up ever again if you fell asleep.

Too bad the poison they had in them was enough to put a whale to sleep.

 _“And w-what’s in it for me?”_ was Jaskier's answer, eyes already heavy with sleep. The antidote the Witcher made him drink wasn’t near enough to what he needed, yet he still hoped that it would be enough to keep Jaskier awake for a while.

 _“Keep your damn eyes open,”_ Geralt wanted to say.

And maybe the old Geralt, who rarely expressed his feelings to anyone unless those feelings had gotten something to do with anger, would say that.

But what left his mouth instead was: “ _I’ll sing a song for you if you hang on, if you don’t fall asleep. Just hang on till I get you to a healer.”_

 _“Promise..?”_ The bard’s eyes had closed for a second before he revealed his baby blues to Geralt again, _“you have to promise. It feels so tempting to sleep right now, my dear. You–”_

_“I promise. Hang on for me, little hummingbird. You always wanted to hear me sing, right? You have to hang on then.”_

Thanks to all the gods in every religion -if they even really existed- Jaskier had managed to stay awake with Geralt’s help.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier walked towards him with loud and determined steps, breaking the Witcher away from his thoughts.

“You have been waiting for only two weeks. Don’t be dramatic.”

“No, I’m not being dramatic, I’m being honest. _You_ stop talking rubbish. I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier insisted with a little, cute frown, making Geralt let out a small chuckle.

Yennefer rolled his eyes at the bard, “Ever the dramatic. Also, _honest_? Really? You are the most dishonest person if your songs are anything to go by.” 

“You. Lying. Snowman.” The dramatic bard in question ignored her, poking Geralt’s chest with his index finger between every word. “I knew it, I fucking knew you wouldn’t keep your promise! I should have just kept my eyes closed!”

“Don’t say that.” The Witcher said. “You...”

 _“You wouldn't be here now if you did,”_ was unheard. But Jaskier understood anyway.

“At least I wouldn't have to witness such a– such a betrayal!”

Instead of saying something, Geralt looked at Yennefer, she gave him a knowing look in return -which Jaskier didn’t miss, of course-

“Wait a minute, you’re hiding something!”

“Yeah, his desire for killing you so you would finally stop nagging like a bitch,” Yennefer sighed tiredly, clearly feeling a bit annoyed by Jaskier’s antics.

“I’m not hiding something,” he lied.

He was definitely hiding something, but Jaskier didn’t need to know that.

Not yet.

“I hate my life sometimes,” the bard kept complaining, crossing his arms and finally accepting that he wasn’t going to hear Geralt singing today: “Anyway, I’m not cooking today, you are on your own.”

“And how is that supposed to be a threat? Jask, no offence, but even Ciri cooks better than you. We nearly had food poisoning the last time you tried to cook.”

“I'm sorry. What do you mean by _even_?” came Ciri’s voice.

Well, fuck. He probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Hey, I'm gonna go take a walk, wanna come?” Jaskier asked Ciri before Geralt could answer Ciri’s question.

 _“He is trying to save my ass even when he is mad at me,”_ Geralt thought, looking at the bard with such a loving look, but then the other man added: “Betrayed people gotta stick together, you know,” and that loving look immediately turned into a _“Disappointed But Not Surprised”_ look.

“Sure,” agreed Ciri, giving Geralt a meaningful look before she disappeared into the woods with Jaskier.

“Wow, you really have no idea how to talk a lady. Also, you better figure out how to complete that song before your bard gives you another tantrum and crush his lute over your head or something,” said Yennefer

“Helpful as always, Yen.”

He couldn’t deny that she was right, though.

***

After spending six more nights to complete his song, Geralt was finally ready to fulfill his promise finally.

It was certainly going to be a big surprise for Jaskier since Geralt had made it clear that he wouldn’t sing. And just three days ago, Jaskier had apologized to him.

_“I'm sorry that I kinda overreacted before,”_ he had said. _“Okay, not kinda. But I just... I’ve always wondered what your singing voice sounds like, so when you said you weren’t going to sing, I felt disappointed. Anyway, I wrote a new song, you wanna hear?”_

So, yeah. He was gonna be so surprised.

And oh God, he had no idea how Jaskier could do it before so many people. _“Having the voice of an angel probably helps,”_ his mind suggested not-so-helpfully.

He had an audience of three people, three people that mean the world to him, and he was already stressed as hell. He would rather sing to an Ethereal instead.

The Witcher didn't even know how to do this. How should he start? By saying _“I've written a song for you,”_ or by singing out of the blue? Should he stand while singing? Or is it a better idea to just sit?

And for God’s sake, where should he put his damn hands?

Would it be weird if he just kept his hands at his sides? Would that make him look like a puppet in a box or something?

For a moment, he wished he knew how to play the lute. So he could just sit down and play it, not having to think about his hands. He should have let Jaskier teach him when he offered it months ago. Well, there was no point thinking about that now.

 _“Okay, Geralt, give yourself a minute. You can do this,_ ” he assured himself and took a deep breath. _“Just remember why you’re doing this, and just do whatever feels natural. Say something romantic before you start, maybe.”_

When he took a look at Jaskier, who was sitting by the fire across from him with Ciri and talking to her excitedly about something, he knew that he shouldn’t be worried about any of these things. And he shouldn’t worry about forgetting the words, even though he felt like he would forget and make a fool of himself.

“Jaskier!” He called as Ciri stood up to go to Yennefer’s side. “Are you planning to shut your mouth at least for a couple of minutes anytime soon?”

 _“So much for making a romantic remark before you start singing. Well done Geralt, way to go,”_ a voice inside his head scolded him as Jaskier said something he failed to catch. It wasn’t his fault that it was what felt natural. Being romantic wasn’t his strong suit, but he was trying to improve.

“Okay, so. It won’t be the best song you’ve ever heard, but it’s the best I can do. If any of you laugh at me while I’m singing, I’ll kick your sorry asses.”

“Wait, wha–”

He took a deep breath once again and started singing, keeping his eyes on Jaskier as he gaped with wide-open eyes.

_“I had no choice but to hear you_

_You stated your case time and again_

_I thought about it_

_You treat me like I'm a damn prince_

_I'm not used to liking that_

_You ask how my day was”_

He heard Ciri letting out a little chuckle at the _“damn prince,”_ part, and he gave her a warning look before turning his gaze on Jaskier again, standing up.

There was no lie in it, Jaskier did treat him like he was a prince. He treated the Witcher like he wasn’t someone people were afraid of, but someone good and royal. Someone who deserved to be respected. Someone who deserved all the compliments in the whole world, not ugly slurs.

Someone who deserved to be loved.

_“You've already won me over in spite of me_

_And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet_

_Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are_

_I couldn’t help it_

_It's all your fault,”_ he sang, pointing at the bard while singing _“it's all your fault.”_

Geralt nodded at him like _saying “yes, I mean you, you silly bard,”_ when Jaskier briefly looked around as if he wasn’t sure Geralt was singing to _him_.

Of course, he meant him.

Because it sure was his fault.

It was Jaskier’s fault that his smile was more bright and dazzling than the afternoon sun, warming Geralt inside every time.

It was his fault that he had the biggest heart of gold Geralt had ever encountered, filled with so much love.

His fault that he had a voice that would make angels weep with jealousy. His fault that he was just so... Jaskier.

_“Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole_

_You're so much braver than I gave you credit for_

_That's not lip service”_

He found his hands moving naturally against his will as he sang. Guess he was worried for nothing.

_“You've already won me over in spite of me_

_And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet_

_Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are_

_I couldn't help it_

_It's all your fault”_

He sang the chorus once again, walking towards the man who he was able to render speechless for once, for a good reason hopefully this time. Speechless, and surprised as hell.

When he was finally in front of Jaskier, he reached his hands out tentatively towards him, hoping that the bard would just take the hint and hold them. Sadly, he didn’t. So Geralt just bent over and grabbed his hands, pulling him up from the log he was sitting on. Then, with a barely audible sigh, he closed his eyes, not sure if he could sing that part while looking at Jaskier.

He kept singing after swallowing thickly to find his voice again, not letting go of the bard’s dainty hands:

_“You are the bearer of unconditional things_

_You held your breath and the door for me_

_Thanks for your patience_

_You're the best friend that I've ever had_

_Let's be boyfriends_

_What are we waiting for?_

_What took me so long?”_

“Did he just ask him to be his boyfriend?” Geralt heard Ciri gasp quietly.

“Fucking finally," he was sure that Yennefer was rolling his eyes right now, “they were already acting like boyfriends anyway. Well, or more like an old married couple.”

Wait, were they?

Deep down, he knew that Jaskier had feelings for him, too. But still, he couldn’t help but think _“What if I'm wrong?”_

What if he was opening his heart only to get it broken?

No, no way.

He was being ridiculous.

Jaskier loved him, too. There was no way that would happen.

He knew that he did. Maybe Geralt was just too stubborn to see it at first, maybe it got him decades to accept that someone could truly love him, yeah, but he finally _did_ accept it.

They loved each other.

And it was only Geralt’s fault that he kept pushing Jaskier away from himself for so long.

It was only when he finally was succeeded, he regretted it.

He regretted it deeply.

He was aware of everything after having to spend half of the year Jaskierless - yes, it was a real word to him, more real than any word, even, it meant _“suffering” “pain”_ and _“sadness”_ in his dictionary - he was aware of his love for him.

If anything, it was Jaskier who should have been afraid.

Afraid of getting hurt by him again, afraid of being vulnerable again.

Because he had already laid his heart bare to the Witcher before, yet Geralt had broken his heart so badly.

But Jaskier had given him another chance anyway, and Geralt had promised himself to do his best not to make him regret it.

The white-haired man had said goodbye to The Old Geralt right when he got that chance.

 _“Goodbye,”_ he had told him, _“no longer hiding behind excuses, no longer always avoiding to express yourself. Maybe it will be difficult to say goodbye to you, I know. And you will appear again in front of people I don't know, as it should be, but I have to say goodbye to you. ‘Cause if I go on like this, I will only cause harm to my loved ones, thinking that I am protecting them.”_

Perhaps it seemed like there was no radical change at all since one couldn’t suddenly say goodbye to the person he had been for years. Old habits die hard, after all.

But _changing_ was the important thing, no matter how slow.

Back in the day, Geralt would pretend he didn’t care or like it whenever Jaskier composed a new song. But the new Geralt would make little comments on his songs instead of acting like he wasn’t even listening.

And even just saying _“That's a nice song,”_ or _“I don't hate it,”_ with the tiniest smile was enough to make Jaskier happy. It was enough to make him realize that things weren’t the same anymore.

The new Geralt showed it when he was concerned for the bard, and he paid attention to Jaskier's feelings, to his warnings, to him.

He tried his best to make it up for his every mistake.

He tried his best to be the friend Jaskier deserved since the very beginning.

It wasn’t just a one-sided deal, though. Because Jaskier had his own regrets as well, and he knew that neither he nor Geralt was flawless.

There were moments Geralt would get mad about something that had happened; moments that required him to be alone for a while.

While old Jaskier would try to lighten the mood with jokes and would force him to say something, new Jaskier wouldn’t do that.

He would just say: _“I'm here if you wanna talk,”_ and when Geralt was back, he would do his best to make him feel better. He would get him in the bath if Geralt wanted him to, washing him with such care. Then he would make him a nice cup of tea before insisting that he needed to take a nap.

Not once would he open his mouth to say anything about whatever had upset Geralt unless the white-haired man said something about it first.

One of these days, Geralt had asked the bard while he was washing the Witcher silently: _“Do you remember when I said that I needed no one..?”_

With that question, the gentle hands that massaging his scalp had come to a halt.

 _“You know what they say,”_ Jaskier had replied bitterly, the tone of hurt in his voice making Geralt ache _“one has to forget first to remember.”_

 _“I was wrong,”_ Geralt had admitted with a mumble after a moment of heavy silence, turning to his right a bit and reaching over to hug the bard’s legs. _“I was so wrong.”_

_“I need you,”_ he had thought, his hair dampening the other man's trousers, _“I need you in my life, Jaskier. I can’t say it out loud, but please hear my silent words. Find them in my actions, find them in my touch.”_

As if reading his mind, Jaskier had moved one hand to Geralt’s bare shoulder and caressed the skin there gently and slowly before saying: _“You have me, Geralt. And I’ll be in your life as long as you want me to be. As long as you act like it.”_

Things had changed again after that. In a good way.

They had become more touchy with each other. Jaskier was already a touchy person, but Geralt couldn't say the same for himself.

Normally.

After their little conversation, Geralt was feeling more comfortable with showing his affection with little things, like ruffling Jaskier’s silky hair when he would pout, annoyed at Geralt for something. Or when he would do something impressive.

Little things like calling him “ _little hummingbird”_ instead of just _“bard”_ because Jaskier reminded him of one.

Just like a hummingbird, he was unique and beautiful in every aspect, and it was hard to catch up with him since he was constantly in motion. Also, he usually talked non-stop and when he would stop singing or talking, he would start humming this time. And eh, let’s not forget about his colourful outfits that suited him so well.

So, Geralt called him “ _hummingbird”,_ and he could swear that Jaskier's eyes shined with happiness whenever he called him that.

Maybe he could finally call him “ _my little hummingbird”_ pretty soon.

_“I’ve never felt this healthy before_

_I've never wanted something rational_

_I am aware now_

_I am aware now_

_You’ve already won me over in spite of me_

_And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet_

_Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are_

_I couldn’t help it_

_It’s all your fault”_

And he was done.

Yet, even after he finished singing, he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

When Jaskier pulled his hands away, he felt his heart clench in his chest. He cursed himself in his head, feeling too anxious to even breathe. Did he fuck everything up? Just like that? Did he just misread everything like a goddamn fool?

What was gonna-

Before he could ask himself any further questions, he felt a feather-light touch on his cheeks.

He opened his eyes only to find Jaskier’s stunning blue eyes shining with tears, looking at him like Geralt had just caught the moon for him. 

Geralt waited for him to say something.

Anything.

“Was my singing so terrible it made you cry?” He asked when Jaskier said nothing in a full minute. The bard’s face was so close to his that he could count the drops that were nestled on his long eyelashes.

The white-haired man wiped his tears away with his thumb gently as he leaned in to press their foreheads together. “Or you didn’t like the song? I believe it was much better than _The Fishmonger’s Daughter._ ”

He knew that Jaskier would say something if he made a comment on one of his songs. This was a trick he had learned a long time ago.

“Excuse me,” here it came, “but _The Fishmonger’s Daughter_ is a _great_ song.”

“No, it isn’t. You just sing _‘ba ba,’_ and _‘ta-da-da’_ for half of the song. Even four years old can do that.”

“And people love it. They love to sing along and it’s catchy, also it has a story in it like every one of my songs,” Jaskier claimed with a weak voice and swallowed as Geralt ran his fingertips lightly along the side of his neck. He sounded like he could break at any moment as he whispered after wrapping one hand around the Witcher’s waist: “Now will you just shut me up with a kiss or should I just keep–”

And who was he to deny Jaskier of something he wanted as well..?

So Geralt shut him up with pressing his lips against his soft lips, kissing him gently but passionately. At first, Jaskier just held him close instead of kissing him back, but then his eyes closed and he returned his kiss with equal fervour.

He could hear the distant cheering of Ciri and Yennefer as they kissed for God knows how long. It was strange how a couple of minutes had felt endless, but also too short at the same time.

“Hey,” Jaskier swallowed again when Geralt pulled back a little and broke the kiss so they could take a breath, “I’ve never heard this song before. Where did you...”

“Because it was written for you, you silly, beautiful dandelion,” answered the Witcher. “By me.”

A beat.

And with that, a loud sob broke free from Jaskier’s throat, tears falling freely over his beautiful face as the sound of footsteps going off into the distance was heard.

“I’m so afraid that this is all happening in my head,” he whispered, burying his head on Geralt’s shoulder, his frame shaking slightly. “I’m fucking terrified that this is nothing but a vivid dream. I’ve waited for so long, Geralt. Countless times I’ve dreamed about hearing you say that you wanted me, too. Not just as a friend, but more. And now, I–” Jaskier took a shaky breath, “Could we just...”

Geralt hugged him, rubbing small soothing circles on his back, not needing Jaskier to complete his sentence.

He knew what he meant anyway.

Because Jaskier wasn’t the only one who felt like this.

There were nights Geralt would still wake up in cold sweat, finding it hard to believe that Jaskier was in the same room with him for real.

More often than not, the bard wouldn’t realize that Geralt had woken up since he was a heavy sleeper who wouldn’t notice if an earthquake happened. So, the white-haired man would just watch him sleep until he could convince himself that he was real.

An impulse to brush his fingers through Jaskier’s silky hair would come up every time without any exceptions.

Sometimes he would almost reach out to him, but then he would instantly retrieve his hand, afraid of waking him up even though he knew that he probably wouldn’t.

But sometimes, he couldn’t resist that impulse and would brush his fingers through Jaskier’s hair oh so carefully. And then stroke against the softness of his cheek before pulling the thick comforter over him, smiling because: “ _this is real.”_

In that rare moments when Jaskier would wake up to see Geralt awake, trying to calm himself, he would ask him what was wrong. And the look Geralt would give him would always be enough for him to understand that what his nightmares were about.

The bard would pull him into his arms then, singing softly, lovingly in his ear.

_“Can you just...”_

Geralt would start after Jaskier would stop singing eventually, but he could never finish his question.

He could never ask: _“Can you just keep holding me for a little while longer?”_

But he didn’t need to.

 _“Sure,”_ Jaskier would keep holding him as Geralt would close his eyes, listening to the relaxing heartbeats of the bard.

 _“I'm here, you adorable, big snowman,”_ he would whisper afterwards. _“I'm here.”_

So, no.

Geralt definitely didn't need him to complete his sentence.

“Yeah," he nodded, pulling him even closer to himself, not even able to tolerate being two-inch apart from him, “we can stay like this, Jaskier.”

“Don’t let go,” Jaskier begged after a while, “Please, don’t let go.”

Just like he did when his screams would break the silence of the night sometimes, alarming all of the Witcher’s senses with concern.

Just like when Geralt would hold him loosely to calm him down, telling him to just follow his breathing and to breathe with him, nice and slow as he would take Jaskier’s hand and place it on his own broad chest.

“Never.” He assured him sweetly, breathing in Jaskier’s heavenly scent and placing a little kiss on his shoulder “Never again, my little hummingbird.”

Seriously...

What took him so long..?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! A coin for your thoughts? Please let me know what you think ^^
> 
> You can come scream your love for these two at me on Tumblr, @andyet-here-we-are btw!
> 
> Have a good day, and stay safe everyone ~ 💛


End file.
